Against the Grain of Dystopic Claims
by floorplanhobo
Summary: Dean has lived his life as unattached as possible; he doesn't live, but merely survives. But this changes when his neighbor, a single parent named Cas, drops his bag of groceries in the hallway. Drive-based AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or Drive. Just a giant Misha Collins poster. Yup. The title of this fic belongs to A Real Hero by College.

**A/N: **I basically borrowed heavily from my own fic that I wrote from another pairing, and decided to make it a Dean/Cas fic. You can find the original fic at my livejournal, link can be found in my bio. You can also read this fic at my Dean/Cas livejournal, nearlydeancas.

**Part One**

He opens his eyes, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He glances at the rearview mirror twice, and the sound of the blaring alarm interrupts the silence. He waits patiently, turning up the volume of a trusty old tune.

Zeppelin always does the trick.

The guitar sounds frantic, the bass desperate, and he feels like singing out loud, even if he can't. He contents himself by singing along in his head, nodding along to the beat, and waits.

The sound of the alarm corrupts the music he is currently enjoying, so he lowers the volume. He looks at his watch and the guys have two minutes. Only two minutes and it will be over.

The guitar in the song picks up, faster, faster, and time is running out. He starts the engine as police sirens approach them, and the guys run out of the pawn shop, carrying bags with items that he will never see.

And then, something unexpected.

A heavily mustached man is running after the crooks, a shotgun in his hand. The thieves enter the car and start yelling at him, so he starts driving. He does it fast because he didn't expect the owner to be there. Fuck, this complicates everything.

He expertly dodges the cops and then he speeds up, the car almost imperceptible in the L.A traffic. One of the guys is moaning and sobbing, and the smell of acrid blood hits his nostrils.

Dean Winchester wrinkles his nose and continues to drive, like he always does, distorted guitars and sobs of anguish ringing in his ears.

**xxxxx**

The elevator is empty when he steps in, and he's grateful for this. He is tired of running into gossiping neighbors who give him odd looks, who whisper behind his back. He feels his phone vibrating and knows that it's Bobby, but he doesn't want to talk to him.

Not that he likes to talk much, honestly.

He just wants to sleep and finish working on that motor he has had for months; he knows it will be a long day tomorrow. His life is like this, working a legitimate job, and the "other" job. It's the "other" job the one that pays the bills, and he will always feel grateful that Bobby helped him get into that.

But he also resents him a little.

He thinks of Sam, who is happily enjoying life without him not that far away. Dean thinks of driving to Stanford soon, just to say hi and show signs of life. But part of him doesn't want to see the concern in Sam's eyes, the affection, the non-judgmental nature of his stubborn little brother.

The doors slide open and he steps out, surveying his surroundings as he always does. It's early, and the hallway should be deserted. But it's not.

A boy he's never seen before is sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the decrepit wall. Dean wonders if the boy is a figment of his imagination and tries to ignore the kid as he pulls out his keys.

The boy is staring curiously at him, his light brown eyes somewhat strinking under the mat of dark hair. Dean smirks sweetly at him, reminding himself that a kid is not a threat, that a kid can be trusted.

"Hey," says Dean softly, and the boy smiles.

"Hi," the boy says timidly, blinking rapidly as he slowly stands up. "I've seen you a few times."

"Have you?" asks Dean, having no recollection whatsoever of the boy. "What's your name?"

"Gabriel Novak. Named Gabriel after my cool uncle, but you can call me Gabe, because I am cooler than him." The kid's smile is getting wider, and Dean feels his heart shift inside his chest. It's a nice feeling, compared to the blatant indifference that rules his life.

"Are you hurt?" asks Gabe curiously, pointing at the blood on Dean's jeans.

"No, my friend got hurt," grins Dean. "He'll be okay."

"Cool," says Gabe, and the elevator door opens.

"Gabe, how many times have I told you to wait for me?" Dean turns around, just in time to watch a frazzled-looking man drop a bag of groceries. Gabe and Dean hurry to help him out, and the man looks flat-out embarrassed.

"I'm terribly clumsy sometimes, forgive me." His voice drips monotonous exhaustion, and there is something that looks like infinite sadness in his eyes. It's as if the man's eyes are mirrors of Dean's own existence.

"Our apartment is tiny, I want to run around!" exclaims Gabe, and proves his point by running up and down the hallway. Dean lets out a short chuckle, and this action hurts his throat.

It's been a while.

"He's a pain," says the man seriously, but Dean can tell he is joking. "I'm Castiel. Call me Cas."

"Dean." Gabe stops running and stands next to Cas, his cheeks flushed. Dean finally notices the way Cas is dressed, and he raises an eyebrow. Cas is wearing a cheap suit, with a dirty, tan trenchcoat hiding most of it. In a building inhabited by people of dubious reputation, Cas and his kid are a rare sight.

Which makes Dean wonder why he had never noticed them before.

"I've seen you before," continues Cas, running his fingers through Gabe's hair. "Interesting."

"Yeah," mutters Dean, not wanting to get into details. That's his life; he's too obsessed with the details of his own job that he doesn't feel like explaining things to people. He's just wired that way.

"I'll see you around, then," smiles Cas. Dean's eyes lock with Cas', and the air feels heavy for a moment. They just look at each other tentatively, as if expecting something drastic to happen.

"I guess so," says Dean quietly, smirking a little, and he finally unlocks his door.

"Bye!" chirps Gabe, tugging on Cas' trenchcoat and dragging him away from Dean. He doesn't stand around to watch, he just wants to get inside his apartment and sleep for at least four hours.

Dean quickly closes the door behind him, and he leans on it hastily. He lets out a deep breath, thinking of the men he helped just a few hours ago. The images of the dying man are haunting him, but he had to leave him. It has never been part of his job to assist someone in that way. He's always been clear about that.

It's perfectly okay. Dean will close his eyes and sleep the almost-dreamless sleep he always goes through.

He breathes deeply, staring at the emptiness of his apartment. He has never needed opulence; he has never been one for sentimentalisms or displays of domesticity. Every time he talks to Sam on the phone, he is told that he is missing out.

He's not so sure about that.

**xxxxx**

"Heard about the dead kid."

Bobby's eyes are burning holes in his back, but Dean is too busy fixing the transmission of an old F-150.

"You left them on the sidewalk," continues Bobby, drinking whiskey from a gritty cup. "That's pretty cold, boy."

"Not part of my job description," says Dean sourly. His fingers slip and he feels the metal of the engine scrape the back of his hand, but he merely snorts as the blood starts gushing.

He steps back and holds up his hand, a cold smile on his lips, and Bobby shakes his head.

"You idjit, let me get a band-aid," sighs Bobby worriedly and limps off, cussing under his breath. Dean wants to make a snarky comment about needing more than a band-aid, but someone Dean has never seen before enters the garage.

Dean brushes off the hair on his forehead and stares briefly at the man before getting back to work. Bobby comes rushing back, the first aid kit enclosed between his hands, but he stops at the sight of the man.

"Crowley." Bobby seems disgusted, and gives the man a fake smile. Crowley fixes his tie in an arrogant manner, the expensive suit making Dean snort derisively. It must be one of Bobby's "friends," the kind of friends that ruined Dean's mentor's life.

Because Bobby's need for a cane was no accident, he's sure.

"Bobby Singer, my friend," says Crowley pompously, his accent making him even more obnoxious. "Nice to see you again. The shop is still here, I see."

"Yeah, you know," stammers Bobby. "Hey, meet the new boy! Dean, come over here."

Dean ignores Bobby and grabs a wrench instead, but his boss walks over to him and drags him along. "Crowley, this is Dean Winchester. He's an excellent driver. He could go pro if he wanted, but no, can't convince him for shit."

Crowley surveys Dean closely, an attempt at intimidation. It doesn't work with Dean, who is holding his head high, and Crowley seems to appreciate this.

"He irradiates attitude," smirks Crowley. "I like that. Why don't you want to go pro, _son_?"

Son? Dean doesn't appreciate the condescending tone. "Maybe I have other aspirations," deadpans Dean. "The adult-movie market is very appealing right now."

Crowley laughs and laughs, wiping tears off his eyes.

"Your hand is bleeding," notes Crowley, flashing his white teeth.

Dean gives Crowley a long, judging look, and walks away after taking the first aid kit from Bobby. He listens to their muttering, and he knows they're talking about him.

He doesn't care.

**xxxxx**

Dean's hand and head are throbbing, and he feels slightly sick. Maybe because he hasn't eaten anything, which is unusual for him. Meeting Crowley ruined his appetite, really, but now it's back stronger than ever. He pushes the cart and starts piling up the essentials, and he wonders if he should go to the bakery and buy some pie.

He hums to himself while browsing the aisles, and then he hears a familiar voice on the other side of where he's walking.

"But they're delicious!"

"No, Gabe. What would Mommy say?"

"Mommy isn't here, though."

"Touché."

Dean listens to Gabe's laughter, and he smiles in spite of everything. He decides to retreat quietly, and walks to a different aisle.

After minutes of what seems to be endless shopping, he finally pays and checks out, looking forward to taking a short nap. Dean feels extremely tired, and although this is normal for him, it's not pleasant.

As soon as he gets to the parking lot, he sees Cas standing in front of an old-looking car, running his fingers impatiently though his hair. He has ditched the suit jacket and the trenchcoat, and now he is pulling at his blue tie in frustration.

Gabe is on the passenger's seat, looking flustered, but his face brightens at the sight of Dean.

"Hey!" says Gabe happily.

Dean nods at him and puts his groceries on the roof of Cas' car before walking over to check the engine.

"Hello, Dean," blurts Cas gratefully. "Know anything about cars?"

Dean smiles knowingly at him, and starts to work.

**xxxxx**

"Batman," says Dean, placing the empty glass on the kitchen counter.

"No way! I like Spiderman better," says Gabe, crossing his arms.

"He does like Spiderman," chuckles Cas. Dean glances at him, and realizes that even though there is an aura of calmness around Cas, his neighbor has something steel-like shining in his eyes.

Dean looks around the apartment, which might be smaller than his. A photo of Cas, Gabe, and a dark-haired woman catches his eye, and he walks over to the bookshelf where it's placed.

"I'll go get my comics, okay?" says Gabe, and Dean grins at him.

"Sure, kiddo," he replies, and the kid runs out of the room.

Dean grabs the frame and looks at it, and Cas clears his throat as he approaches him. Cas looks way younger, or less tired in the photo, and the woman is smiling in a cheeky way. Gabe looks like he was three years old when the photograph was taken.

"She, um, she's not around," says Cas uncomfortably. "I honestly don't know where she is right now."

"Hmm." Dean places the frame back on the shelf, and turns to face Cas. "I know a thing or two about absent parents, so I understand."

"I try to do my best, but it doesn't seem enough," says Cas, a sad smile on his lips. "Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," admits Dean, attempting an encouraging smile as he thinks of Sam. Cas' smile changes into a happier one, and he slowly crosses his arms as he laughs.

"He admires you," says Cas warmly. "He says he thinks you're a secret agent or something."

"Really?" asks Dean pleasantly as Gabe comes running back.

"Here," says Gabe breathlessly as he hands Dean one of his comics. A Batman comic. "You can borrow it if you want, Mr…"

"No mister," teases Dean, taking the comic from Gabe. "Just call me Dean."

"Gabe," interjects Cas with a tone of finality. "I'm sure Dean needs to leave now, right?"

"Right," says Dean, even though part of him wants to stay with them. "Work."

"Will you come visit? Can we hang out in the hallway?" inquires Gabe eagerly.

"Sure," promises Dean, and Cas follows him as he starts walking towards the door.

"Be right back," winks Cas to the kid, warning in his voice for some reason, and they step out of the apartment.

"Thanks for helping with the car," says Cas as he closes the door. "I'm afraid that I am useless when it comes to things like these. I'll pay you as soon as-"

"Nah, don't worry about it," says Dean dismissively, shaking his head nonchalantly.

"Are you sure?" Cas seems slightly uncomfortable. "I wouldn't want you to think I am taking advantage of your neighborly-"

"Positive."

"I noticed you live alone, and I was wondering..." Cas trails off, and he clears his throat. "I am sure you're quite busy with work, and it is completely understandable. However, it would be nice if you could join us for dinner sometime. Look at it as a way of showing gratitude for your services without being a monetary thing."

"Jesus, Cas, you're so fucking formal," grins Dean, breaking into a smile.

Cas nods and laughs, and the sound enthralls Dean, makes his heart beat faster than ever. Dean licks his lips and looks away from Cas, hoping that his eyes aren't betraying his current state of mind.

Cas stops laughing, the ghost of his happiness evolving into a quiet smile. "I work part-time as a lawyer at a non-profit," explains Cas. "I attempt to be formal at all time."

Dean wants to mention Sam, how he is going to law school and is a brilliant fucking kid, but it hurts to do so, so he doesn't.

"Thanks again," says Cas, seemingly self-aware.

"No problem," mutters Dean as Cas gets back into the apartment, slowly closing the door. Dean starts his lonely walk back to his place, smiling to himself. He takes out his keys and he looks back, the closed door of apartment 206 staring right back at him. What did he expect to see when he looked back? He doesn't know.

But something has changed.

**xxxxx**

Bobby is drinking, and the scent of alcohol is too appealing to Dean. He stopped drinking after his father died, but the urge to drink his pain away is always there. Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope; Bobby's commission.

"You have this look in your eyes," points out Bobby. "It worries me, Dean."

Dean takes off his driving gloves, the adrenaline of the earlier heist still rushing in his veins. He looks up and bites his own lip, giving Bobby a thoughtful look.

"_Look_?" echoes Dean.

"Yes, look, idjit," puffs Bobby, this breath reeking of cheap liquor. "Are you in love or something?"

Dean cocks an eyebrow, and Bobby snorts loudly. "Sorry," he sighs comically, his voice rough. "I know you're not one for chasing skirts. Or other things. Maybe you should, though. You could use the distraction, Dean."

Dean thinks briefly of his neighbor, but doesn't say anything. They've been spending some time together, well, not together _together,_because Gabe is always there. Dean repaired Cas' fridge the other day, and they had a couple beers after that.

Cas is obviously damaged, damaged way beyond his years. He is only a few years older than Dean, but the way Cas talks, one would think he is a million years old. He told Dean about Meg, his wife, how she always disappears for a few months and then comes back, always needing money. Cas loves her, he said, but as one loves a stray puppy. Dean chuckled a little at Cas' comment, earning a curious look.

Yes, he's been spending much of his time hanging out with Cas and Gabe, and the two of them are now like oxygen to Dean. He feels a connection with them, a connection he had never felt before, and he's slightly terrified.

"Dean?"

Dean blinks, smiling mysteriously at Bobby.

**xxxxx**

_"Batman is a badass!"_

"Language, Gabe."

"Sorry, Daddy."

Dean smirks as he remembers how Gabe got excited during the movie, and how Cas had to _drag _him to bed afterwards. After a few minutes Cas came back, looking exhausted, and insisted that they should watch the game.

Dean isn't paying attention to the game, not with Cas sitting so close to him. Cas doesn't seem to be into it either, and falls asleep after just fifteen minutes.

Dean doesn't mind, he knows what tiredness does to people. He keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, not really paying attention to the game developing in front of him. The soft snores escaping Cas' mouth are soothing, and Dean's can't help but smile.

The sportscaster yells triumphantly through the speaker, and the spell is broken. Cas stirs and yawns, and Dean feels his heart drop for a moment.

"Oh," mumbles Cas sleepily. "My apologies."

"Don't worry about it," mutters Dean.

Cas is staring blankly at the screen, his face suddenly worn and tired, and he looks at Dean resignedly. "I'm so tired," says Cas. And he sounds like he means it.

"Call in tomorrow," says Dean quietly, and Cas shakes his head.

"I can't afford that," says Cas miserably, stretching his arms. "I'm an obedient little soldier, anyway. I'm just not tired physically… I'm tired, tired. I don't know if you understand what I am trying to say."

Dean nods solemnly, and moves closer to Cas. He glances at the clock on the wall and realizes that they have twenty minutes before he has to leave, another heist awaiting his services.

"Talk to me," says Dean suddenly. Cas' nose twitches, as if not sure he should say anything. But Dean doesn't break the eye contact, and Cas gives in.

"Sometimes I look at Gabe and I feel so invincible, so strong," says Cas desolately. "But then I remember all the things we have gone through, and I feel terribly ancient. As if I am carrying years and years of despair with me."

And yes, it does make sense. Because Dean feels the exact same way. He feels as if he has lived a lifetime of sorrow and grief, and all his energy is gone, gone forever.

Dean doesn't say anything; he merely inches closer toward his neighbor, and delicately touches Dean's cheek. He's never been one to show affection in such a way, but he just felt like it. It's something he's been longing to do since the first moment he saw Cas in the hallway, and he is surprised by his own bold move.

Cas' eyes lock with his, his look questioning, but his expression immediately softens. Dean grazes Cas' skin with his thumb and he can almost feel how Cas is falling apart. This is daunting, because Dean also feels like collapsing.

"It's one of those days when you feel like giving up," says Cas, his fingers toying with the zipper of Dean's jacket, the forbidden proximity killing them both. "When you're tired of being tired. When waking up isn't longer a want but a burden."

"You don't seem like the kind of man who would give up," says Dean sincerely. "Not easily."

"I won't ever give up," says Cas, and he sounds stubborn when he clutches the collar of Dean's jacket. "It doesn't mean that I don't want to every now and then."

The blatant sadness in Cas' eyes breaks Dean apart, and he leans his forehead against Cas' temple. Cas' breathing hitches for a moment, and Dean fears that he did something wrong, but nothing else happens. Cas gradually wraps his arms around Dean's neck, breathing slowly, and the warmth is overwhelming.

The clock is ticking, the minutes are speeding by, but Dean doesn't want to move. His nose brushes Cas' cheek and he closes his eyes when he feels Cas' fingers running through his hair.

Dean keeps grazing Cas' cheek with his thumb, his nose pressed gently against Cas' skin, and he feels complete.

**xxxxx**

Crowley stares at Dean for too long, and the latter decides to finally look up.

"Yes?" asks Dean bluntly.

"I'm just trying to see what Bobby sees in you," drawls Crowley. "I'm trying to figure out what's so special about you."

"Don't hold your breath," snarls Dean, and goes back to work on the car.

"He sounds so optimistic about you," continues Crowley, sounding amused. Dean doesn't answer, he's too busy dealing with a burning-hot alternator.

"He told me about the little job you two boys have on the side,"says Crowley venomously. "The one that pays the bills. Bobby tells me  
you're amazing, borderline miraculous. How do you manage?"

"_Fuck_," breathes Dean, his finger burning after touching the metal.

"Not one for conversations, huh?" insists Crowley, and Dean is about to tell Crowley to fuck off when Bobby enters the garage.

"Crowley," groans Bobby, sounding displeased.

"Business, Singer," says Crowley curtly, and he finally stops staring at Dean. "Office?"

"Yeah, of course," says Bobby distractedly. "Dean? Garth is just finishing his lunch, he'll be back to cover your break."

Dean starts to say he doesn't need a break, but Bobby leaves with Crowley in a hurry, not giving Dean the chance to say a word.

Fine, that's fine.

**xxxxx**

"This is a nice one, isn't it?"

Gabe holds the rock in his tiny hand and Dean narrows his eyes, examining it carefully. Cas kneels on the dying grass and takes the rock from Gabe's hand, holding it up to the light.

"It's shiny," says Cas in exaggerated awe. "Maybe it's a diamond in the rough."

"A diamond!" squeals Gabe, quickly snatching the rock away from his father. "Let me find more!"

Gabe runs back to the pile of dirt he was exploring, and Cas crosses his arms as he stands next to Dean. "Thanks for coming with us," he says gratefully. "Gabe wouldn't keep quiet about you, and…"

"It's okay," says Dean, the sun hurting his eyes.

"I know you're busy all the time," says Cas directly, his voice reeking apology. "And if this ever gets too heavy for you, I'm sorry, and-"

"A little talkative today, aren't we?" teases Dean playfully. Cas stops talking, and grins instead. The usual sadness in his eyes has been replaced for something mirroring happiness, and Dean feels elated.

"You don't like talking, do you," states Cas in that deadpan tone of his.

"I talk when I have something to talk about," says Dean simply. "I don't like talking just for the sake of talking."

"I don't like silences, that's all. Maybe because I grew up with a noisy family, even if I usually kept to myself. But I have to admit, I don't mind the quiet when I'm with you." Cas unfolds his arms, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. The back of his left hand brushes Dean's, and they both glance at each other.

Gabe continues digging, the kids in the park are still screaming, and parents are yelling at their children. It's chaos under the façade of happiness, under the delusion of tranquility. No one notices the internal struggle that Dean is going through.

No one notices when Dean takes a leap into the unknown, when he intertwines his fingers with Cas'.

**xxxxx**

"I don't have a shift tonight." Cas says this cautiously, slowly, as if expecting Dean to run away.

"That's good," says Dean, smiling at Cas. Gabe is holding a bag full of rocks, his eyes fixed on the elevator's buttons.

"Do you work tonight?" asks Gabe, turning around and looking directly at Dean. Dean shakes his head and Gabe smiles triumphantly, his innocence making Dean's stomach lurch pleasantly.

"I'll cook something," says Cas conversationally as the elevator's doors open. "If you want."

Gabe bolts out of the elevator, and Cas is moving closer to Dean, the tension making everything unbearable, almost like masochism, and-

"Daddy!" yells Gabe, and Cas looks scared, quickly stepping out of the elevator. Dean follows, and freezes on the spot as the doors close behind him. A woman with long, dirty dark hair is sitting by Cas' door, two duffle bags beside her.

Gabe is hugging the woman tightly, tiny sobs escaping him, and Dean's world has come to a screeching halt. Cas is just standing there, staring in disbelief at the scene in front of him, and he glances at Dean helplessly.

"Clarence, I'm home," says Meg, the voice a cheery drawl. "I'm back, Castiel. I'm back."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or Drive. Just a giant Misha Collins poster. Yup. The title of this fic belongs to A Real Hero by College.

**A/N: **I basically borrowed heavily from my own fic that I wrote from another pairing, and decided to make it a Dean/Cas fic. You can find the original fic at my livejournal, link can be found in my bio. You can also read this fic at my Dean/Cas livejournal, nearlydeancas.

**Part Two**

Meg seems to be the kind of girl who would rip your heart out of your chest, but you wouldn't complain about it. Although Gabe looks just like Cas, it's now obvious that the boy's smile and eyes are Meg's and only Meg's.

"How was your adventure?" asks Gabe, and Meg pats her son's head. Cas has his lips pursed, looking angry and surprised at the same time, but he keeps silently stabbing his mashed potatoes with his fork.

Dean just sits, taking sips of water and pretending to eat.

"It was pretty cool, Gabey," says Meg breezily. "I had fun."

"I'm glad you did," says Cas coldly, stabbing his food yet again.

"Cassie, my love," sighs Meg. "You know I'm a nomad. I've always been."

Dean glances at Meg's arms, and he sees the marks on her arms. She's not a nomad; she's a junkie. Dean resists the urge of calling her out on it, just for Gabe's sake. And Cas'.

"Oh, tell Dean how you and Daddy met," insists Gabe. "I always like listening to that story when you're home."

_When _you're home.

"Maybe Daddy should tell it," says Meg slyly, taking a sip from her drink. "I forget the details."

Cas smiles awkwardly, his ears bright red, and he looks at Meg. "We were at a party… we were both kind of young. I remember looking at her and thinking she was the most beautiful creature ever. She was like-"

"_A shooting star shining in the middle of a thunderstorm_," recites Gabe. "You always say that."

"Why don't _you _tell the story?" teases Cas.

"My mommy smiled, and she captured my daddy's heart," says Gabe ingenuously.

"He was quoting poetry," interjects Meg, her smile now warm as she looks at Cas, Dean feels uncomfortable, feeling as an intruder. "The room was kind of warm and I was... Well, I wasn't feeling too well. He looked like an angel, if I'm honest."

"It was one look," says Cas, but he's not looking at Meg. He's stealing glances at Dean while he talks, and everything seems to shift brutally. It's the way Cas pauses after every word, because those silences means more than what he is saying.

"One look, and everything became definite," says Cas, and now he's looking directly at Dean. "I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, and I was lost. It felt very much like falling."

"You've never said that before," comments Meg casually, her eyes lingering on Dean for a second. "The not-being-able-to-breathe part. You've never mentioned that before."

Meg smiles at her son and Cas looks at Dean, his sad eyes saying everything he can't say out loud, and Dean suddenly understands.

"No, I haven't," says Cas, returning his attention back to his plate.

**xxxxxxx**

Dean closes the door after him, the sound of Meg's and Gabe's giggling hurting Dean's ears, heart.

"She's back," says Cas dryly. "God knows for how long."

"Gabe looks happy."

"He does."

They stand quietly, Cas' nostrils flaring as he takes a step closer to Dean, and longing takes place in the small gap between them.

"I meant what I said," breathes Cas, taking another step. "About not being able to breathe. About everything feeling definite."

"I know," says Dean, and he reluctantly takes a step back. "I have to go."

"I understand." And all the happiness between them that had surfaced when they were at the park has disappeared, and Dean doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say.

Dean nods and walks away, trying not to think about Cas' sorrowful eyes, fighting the urge to look back.

**xxxxxxx**

He has a headache for days. He blames the walls.

He blames the walls and the air vents, because sometimes Dean can hear what is going on in the apartment at the end of the hallway. The acoustics in this place seem to want to punish him, punish him for past and current sins.

Because he can hear them. He can hear Cas and Meg and Gabe and their happiness. He listens to Gabe's contagious laughter, his boyish giggles, his elated screams. He can hear Cas' deep voice mutter words he can't quite make out, but words nonetheless. He listens to Meg's soft moans, to Cas' groans, and Dean's heart collapses every time.

He doesn't understand why, but the family's happiness is his misery.

Dean opens his eyes. His apartment is dark except for a dim nightlight in the living room. He doesn't bother to turn on the lights; he knows that he needs to leave now.

Work awaits.

Dean grabs the jacket next to him and puts it on slowly, his ears alert to any carrying sounds from down the hallway. Nothing. The one night he's not staying at his apartment, the one night they decide to be silent.

How beautiful, how terrible.

He puts on his driving gloves and stands up, finding his keys in the darkness. He walks slowly, carefully, as if not to make a sound. Silence is golden right now, and he breathes it in as if oxygen was running out.

Dean gets out of his apartment, and the moment he starts fumbling with his keys, Cas' door opens. Dean doesn't dare to look, and he takes his time locking his door. He finally starts walking towards the elevator, his head low as he gets closer to Cas.

"Dean."

Dean looks up, and Cas is smiling at him. But it's not a happy smile, no. It's not the smile of someone who is happy with his life. Dean expected Cas to feel better, to leave all of his sadness behind now that his family is complete again. But he looks even more miserable, if possible.

"Hey."

"Haven't seen you for days. Work?"

"Yeah, work."

"I've been working nights at the non-profit, so I know what you mean."

"Oh."

They stay quiet, and the elevator doors open. They walk in, and Cas nods politely when Dean presses the button to the garage. Cas looks pitiful with his trenchcoat, worn shoes, worn eyes.

"I miss you." Cas says this quietly, as if almost hoping that Dean won't hear him. "Gabe misses you too."

Dean tries to ignore the ache in his heart, he doesn't want to feel a thing. But Cas is moving closer, and the air is terribly, horribly heavy. Dean licks his lips, perspiration the only thing he notices, and he's not looking at Cas. It hurts too much to.

The doors slide open, and Dean quickly steps out. Cas is walking tentatively after him, and Dean turns around to face him, his shoulders slumped.

"I can't," Dean says heavily, and walks away, yet again.

**xxxxxxx**

Migraine. It's blinding him and making him go slightly insane, but at least he's back home. Dean snorts at the thought of his apartment being "home," and he parks his car haphazardly. He's tired of this, of driving people around. This last job was especially stressing, having to work with amateur dealers.

But it's over now. And he got paid. That's all that matters.

Dean gets out of the car and walks quickly, wanting to get home and take a pill, drink a beer, something. Anything to get rid of this migraine and the ache in his heavy heart. He can't stop thinking about Cas and how much he misses him.

"Shh, man."

Dean glances around and sees two men walking towards a car he's never seen before. One of them looks at Dean directly in the eye, his head held high, and narrows his eyes. Dean simply digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks away, feeling uneasy. He slows his pace and waits until the men drive away, and then he hears it.

Sobbing. A woman is sobbing.

Dean traces the sound, and soon finds himself by the flight of stairs near the elevator. His heart stops at the sight of Meg. She's lying on the ground, her skirt all the way up, and Dean notices that her underwear is gone. Blood is dripping from the corner of her lips, and her eyes are bloodshot red, her shirt torn.

Gabe is sitting in the corner, his tiny hands covering his eyes.

Meg coughs and looks at Dean, her lips parting tiredly. Dean walks past her and towards Gabe, kneeling down next to the boy, his hand shaking.

"Are you okay?" asks Dean softly.

"Mhm," nods Gabe, his cheeks streaked with tears. "Mommy isn't okay. Those men did stuff to her."

Dean glances at Meg's limp body, and then he looks back at Gabe in what he hopes is a comforting expression.

"I know. I'll help her."

**xxxxxxx**

"Don't tell him."

Meg is dabbing at her swollen lip with a cotton ball, cringing as the alcohol starts cleaning the wound. Dean crosses his arms as he leans against the doorway, watching her.

"Gabe..." starts Dean.

"I talked to him," says Meg, looking at her reflection on the foggy bathroom mirror. "Is he asleep?"

"Yes," says Dean. "Who did this to you? And you better be honest with me. If any of this can affect Cas or Gabe in any way, I need to know. Your kid already saw enough tonight."

Meg chuckles, grimacing as she limps over to Dean, and she slowly wraps her arms around his neck. Dean doesn't move, paralyzed at the sight of the pain in Meg's eyes.

"I thought you weren't much of a talker," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Cas told me that. He talks about you a lot, actually. Weird, isn't it?"

Meg makes a seductive pout and leans in, but Dean gently untangles himself from her grasp, his expression neutral. "You need to tell me," insists Dean, and something changes in Meg's eyes.

"I want them to be safe," she says, lowering her voice.

"So do I." Dean swallows, his heart racing, and Meg gives him a defeated smile.

"I fucked up."

Dean scoffs, much to his surprise, and Meg lets out an exaggerated sigh. "This guy I worked for, I mean, dealt for, he gave me these diamonds to take care of. Well, I fucked up. I lost them. I gambled with them. I needed a fix and... yeah."

Meg coughs, and when she removes her hand from her mouth, Dean notices the blood splatter on it.

"I've been running away since then," says Meg, tugging on a strand of her own hair. "I had to come back and spend a few weeks with my family. Because I don't know what might happen. These guys... the ones who fucked me tonight... well, they came with a message."

"What's the message?" asks Dean, and Meg reaches into the pocket of her shirt. She hands a note to Dean, the paper slightly bloody and dirty. Dean opens the note carefully, and reads.

_He needs a favor. Do him a favor, you'll be clean. Don't do it, next time we'll do this to the kid._

Dean looks up, rage making him shake, and he clears his throat.

"What's the favor?"

**xxxxxxx**

It's chilly, and Dean feels as if his fingertips are going to fall off at any second. Meg sulks nervously, smoking one cigarette after another, and a stunning brunette keeps glaring daggers at them.

"Where the fuck is he!?" yells Meg impatiently. "Goddamn it, Ruby, what the fuck?"

"You know that Lucifer is never early," says Ruby emotionlessly. "Calm down, you fucking junkie."

"You fucking fuck-" starts Meg, but Dean holds her back as a blond, smug looking man approaches them. He is scary as hell, but Dean remains calm. He looks at them contemptuously, and then sneers at the sight of Meg.

"Meg," he says dryly. "Best blowjob I ever had."

Meg's cheeks are burning red, and Dean steps in front of her. "So, is your name really Lucifer?"

"Who the fuck are you?" asks Lucifer affronted. "Are you the husband? You're far too pretty."

"No, a friend," retorts Dean. "I'm the driver."

Lucifer walks in circles, glancing at them, smirking to himself. He finally stops his annoying pacing and he moves closer to Dean, studying him closely. "Okay. There's this pawn shop in east L.A. The guy who Meg sold the diamonds to is the owner. We know for a fact that he only has half the original amount of diamonds. What the hell happened to the other half, I don't fucking know. So, Ruby here-" Lucifer points at Ruby, who rolls her eyes. "Will help Meg rob the shop. They get the diamonds, my boss is happy, end of story. You'll wait for them, drive them all the way to San Diego, drop them off. Deal?"

Dean nods. "And you'll leave Meg and her family alone, correct?"

"Correct," says Lucifer pompously. "Clean slate." Lucifer hands him some paperwork with maps and other things, and Dean takes them unceremoniously.

Dean breathes deeply, and when Lucifer stretches his hand out, Dean ignores it. "Ruby, I'll pick you up in an hour" says Dean coldly, and beckons Meg to follow him.

They soon get to Dean's car, and Meg is muttering under her breath frantically. "Hey!" she exclaims suddenly, and Dean frowns.

"Gabe's future is in Parker," she says cryptically.

"Sorry?"

"Gabe's future is in Parker," repeats Meg. "Don't forget that. In case... in case something happens."

"Nothing is going to happen," says Dean arrogantly. "You're with me."

Meg beams under the faint sunlight, and she gets in the car.

**xxxxxxx**

"Jess wants a June wedding, so I guess we're screwed, huh?"

Dean fakes a laugh, holding on the phone as tears sting his eyes at the sound of Sam's voice. "That's just peachy, dude."

"Dean... are you okay?"

"Sammy, you always ask me that. I'm fine."

"If you need anything... please, Dean. You know you can always call me, right?"

"Yeah, if course."

"Okay, man. I have to go and get some files ready, but don't be a stranger. Jess says you're welcome here whenever you want."

"Tell her I said thanks."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself. I love you, man. I need you to stick around, all right?"

"Same here, Sam. Take care."

Dean hangs up, and thinks that Sam should know better. He walks back to the car, and Meg is fast asleep.

**xxxxxxx**

Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel, as he always does when he's nervous. He's never done this on broad daylight, but those were Lucifer's requirements. Ruby and Meg have been in the shop for more than ten minutes, and Dean is getting anxious.

He breathes deeply again and again, trying to think of other things. His thoughts keep straying back to Gabe and Cas, and he hopes that this will end the potential of any future harm. Dean wouldn't be able to live with himself if something to happened to the people he lo-

Ruby comes out of the store hurriedly, her hair all over her face as she walks. She's holding a bag in his hands, and she gets into the car, irradiating anxiety.

"She's coming, she's coming," mutters Ruby breathlessly, and Dean waits. "She has the diamonds, I have the cash."

The only sound in the car is Ruby's shallow breathing and Dean's gulps, and then-

Meg walks out, her shoulders slumped as she gives Dean a shy, triumphant smile. Dean almost smiles back, and he feels intensely relieved. This is over. It wasn't that difficult at all. Now Cas, Meg and Gabe can live happily ever after, even if it kills Dean.

He just wants them to be happy.

"Fuck!" yells Ruby, and Dean tenses up as a man comes rushing out of the shop, a rifle in his hands.

Meg doesn't have time to react. The sound of the gunshots stab Dean's lungs and his mind is reeling; two bloody holes appear on Meg's chest, and she falls on her knees, but not before Dean sees the amused expression on her face. The guy shoots again, and the shot goes straight through Meg's head.

"Fucking fuck, drive!" screams Ruby, and Dean slams his foot on the gas.

**xxxxxxx**

"I... I knew it."

Dean takes a drink from the bottle they're sharing, and hands it back to Ruby. So much for the not-drinking-ever-again part. They stare at the sight of L.A, the altitude bringing Dean a sick sense of comfort. He can't stop thinking about Meg, about the blood, and fuck, how is he going to explain this to Cas? To Gabe?

"Knew what?" sighs Dean, and Ruby takes a swig from the bottle.

"I knew they would do some shit like this," explains Ruby. "There is no such thing as a clean slate with these fuckers. There's no way that guy in the shop didn't know we were coming. I'm damn certain he had orders to kill Meg."

Dean considers this, and it makes sense.

"Where can I find him? Lucifer?" asks Dean, his throat aching for more liquor. He wants to feel numb.

"Why do you want to know?" asks Ruby suspiciously. "Don't mess with them. Stay away from Meg's husband and kid, they are next on the list."

Dean steals the bottle away from Ruby, gulping the last drops, and throws the bottle down the hill.

"That's exactly why I want to know." Ruby frowns at him, but takes a pen out of her pocket and grabs Dean by the arm. She slides his sleeve up, and scribbles on his forearm. She lets go, throwing the pen away, and stops leaning on the Impala. She reaches inside the car, grabbing something, and sighs as she looks at Dean.

"Here."

Ruby hands him the bag, and Dean notices how Ruby's hands are trembling. Ruby shakes her head and steps back.

"They're gonna kill me anyway," says Ruby, and he pulls out a gun from her back pocket. "Take care of that."

Ruby taps the roof of the car playfully, her half-assed grin an expression of defeat. Dean feels the bag, and it doesn't feel as if there's any money in there. He gives Ruby a quizzical look, and she just shrugs.

"So maybe I lied. Maybe I am the one who had the bag with the diamonds."

There is nothing but shocked silence, and Dean feels furious. He was used, and now Meg is dead. Ruby's expression is one of guilt, as if she feels that she's atoning for her sins by giving Dean this piece of information.

Dean gets in the car and drives away, the bag on the passenger's seat, and a gunshot is heard in the distance.

**xxxxxxx**

He walks into the dingy nightclub, glancing around casually. A dancer approaches him, and Dean asks for Lucifer. The dancer looks at him suspiciously, but directs him towards a secluded section, and there is a door at the end of the hallway.

Dean nods at the dancer, clutching the screwdriver that he has been carrying in his left hand, and walks away. Every step he takes makes him shiver, but he's ready for this.

He pushes the door open and sees Lucifer standing next to more dancers, laughing and drinking. His eyes widen a little at the sight of Dean; but he doesn't have time to react. Dean grabs Lucifer by the collar, pulling him to the nearby dresser, placing Lucifer's hand on the counter.

"What-" starts Lucifer, sounding horrified, and Dean stabs his hand with the screwdriver.

Lucifer howls in pain as Dean pulls the tool out, and holds his hand close to his chest, blood pouring everywhere. The dancers scream and bolt out of the room, their voices quickly fading away.

"You… fucking…" Lucifer is gasping for air, collapsing on his knees, and Dean pushes him. Lucifer falls on the floor, curled up in a ball, and Dean kneels down next to him.

"You killed her," snarls Dean, and Lucifer gasps. "Who the fuck do you work for? I need to know."

"You're gonna have to tickle it out of me," breathes Lucifer, and Dean holds the screwdriver close to Lucifer's throat.

"I will not hesitate to kill you," snaps Dean.

Lucifer gulps, his breathing shallow, and nods. "You're so charming. But okay, just let go of me now."

Dean lets go of him, and Lucifer uses his bloody hand to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He hands it to Dean, his face getting paler and paler, and he croaks out, "Speed dial, number one."

Lucifer looks like he's about to pass out, and Dean quickly dials the first number that comes up. He waits on the line, his eyes fixed on Lucifer.

"What do you want?" the other voice says, and Dean is shocked. He could recognize that smug voice everywhere.

Crowley.

"You killed Meg," says Dean calmly, trying to sound confident. "I have your diamonds. And I'm about to kill your servant or whatever he is."

"I couldn't care less about Lucifer," snorts Crowley, obviously not recognizing Deans voice. "Did you kill Ruby too? I refuse to believe that coward killed herself at the top of some hill."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," says Dean slowly.

"You need to give me the diamonds, boy," says Crowley. "Give them to me and no one will get hurt. I promise."

"I don't know, your guy made the same deal with Meg and now she's dead," says Dean dryly, and Crowley chuckles on the other line.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" snaps Crowley impatiently. "We'll find you."

"If you're lucky," says Dean, and hangs up. He drops the phone next to Lucifer, pocketing the bloody screwdriver, and walks out.

**xxxxxxx**

A flustered-looking girl opens the door and she frowns at the sight of Dean.

"Hi, I am Becky, I am the babysitter, and I know who you are. Dean, right? Gabe will not shut up about you and the leather jacket and the car-"

Becky lets him in after ranting for what seems a decade, and she explains that police just left. Dean hasn't been at his apartment for two days because he stayed over at Bobby's, trying to figure out his next move.

But Dean has been checking on them, even if they don't know it.

"Mr. Novak is in his room," explains Becky. "I think talking to the police exhausted him. And the whole dead-wife thing too, I suppose."

Gabe is sitting in front of the TV, humming to himself. Dean sits next to him in silence, and the boy looks at him warmly.

"Want something to eat, Gabe?" asks Becky kindly. "I can make some mac and cheese, if you want."

"Okay," smiles Gabe, and Becky starts making noise in the kitchen.

"How are you?" asks Dean, his eyes focused on the television.

"I'm fine," says Dean, a strange note of sadness in his voice. "It's weird, but I'm fine. You heard about my mom, right?"

Dean nods and glances at the boy, who is looking at him directly. "But I'm not sad," continues Gabe.

"You're not?" asks Dean, surprised.

"Nope," sighs Gabe. "Because I know Mommy is in heaven. And I don't have to worry anymore."

"Worry about what?" asks Dean as Becky curses at the stove.

Gabe tilts his head and looks pensive, his face just like Cas'.

"About where she is. About what she's doing. I know where she is now."

Gabe returns his attention to the TV and holds on to his stuffed Spiderman, an odd little smile appearing on his lips.

**xxxxxxx**

He knocks on the door, but there is no response. Dean listens to Becky's ranting, which is coming from the living room, and here he is, standing in the dark hallway.

He knocks again, and nothing. Dean places his hand on the doorknob and turns it, more darkness greeting him. His eyes quickly adjust to the dark as he closes the door behind him, and the room smells… empty.

But he can see Cas on the bed, sitting against the headboard. Dean sits on the bed, slowly, and waits for a reaction.

Cas looks up, and Dean can't make out his expression.

"I thought you were Becky," says Cas half-heartedly. "She keeps trying to feed me and I…"

"Do you want me to leave?" asks Dean.

There is a moment of silence, and Dean swears he can hear the beats of Cas' heart.

"No."

Cas' hand finds the sleeve of Dean's jacket, and he pulls him closer. Dean soon finds himself wrapping his arms around Cas, both of them not saying a word. Dean's nose brushes Cas' hair, and the effect seems to be calming for both of them.

"I wasn't surprised when I got the call," says Cas finally. "But it still saddens me. Meg was smart… she… I don't know. It's hard to believe that she's gone."

_The gunshot. Meg's face before she was shot in the head._

"Were you there?" asks Cas suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"Were you there with her? Is this why you haven't been in your apartment?"

Dean gulps as Cas' hand slides under his shirt, his fingers teasing Dean's skin.

"Are you in trouble too?" insists Cas. "Please, tell me. Were you trying to help her?"

Dean doesn't respond, which causes Cas to sigh.

"I don't want to lose you too. That's all. I am not saying that I can save you... I just don't want to lose you." Cas sounds profoundly miserable, his hands touching every single inch of Dean's skin he can possibly touch, as if holding on to something.

Dean wants to promise him that he will never leave, but he can't. Because he would be lying. Dean holds on to Cas instead, pressing his lips against his ear, and Becky's high-pitched laughter invades the room.

"Don't leave," whispers Cas.

So Dean just holds on.

**xxxxxxx**

Dean runs his fingers over Gabe's plush version of Spiderman, and the boy stares at him curiously. Dean feels a lump where the action figure's stomach is, and he frowns.

"Mommy gave me that," says Gabe simply. Dean flips over the toy, studying the stitching on the back. It looks like it was put back together haphazardly, and now Dean understands.

The other half of the diamonds are inside the toy. _Gabe's future is in Parker. _Peter Parker. Dean smirks in spite of the situation, and Becky licks her spoon, glancing back and forth between Dean and Gabe.

Cas finally emerges from his room; Dean left his side when he fell asleep. Cas is wearing his usual suit and tie and he looks exhausted, but he manages to smile at all of them. He kisses Gabe on the cheek, which the boy clearly enjoys, and Cas nods at Becky.

"I have to go to work," says Cas tiredly. "Can't really take time off, you know."

"I'll walk you to the elevator," says Dean quickly, and Becky seems upset by this, but she bids them goodbye.

Dean and Cas walk side by side, both of them thriving in the silence. Cas looks somewhat relaxed, but still sad.

For a moment, Dean fantasizes with the thought of selling his half of the diamonds, the one Ruby handed him, and driving away with Cas and Gabe. The idea of settling down. The idea of starting a family. The thought of waking up next to Cas and kissing his skin all day.

It's a good thought, but it's not going to happen.

They get into the elevator and they stand next to each other, their hands brushing. The elevator stops at one of the floors, and a dark-suited man walks in. He glances once at Dean, and this is enough. Dean notices the gun sticking out of his pocket, and yes, they're definitely looking for him.

A groan of despair threatens to leave Dean's throat, but everything is muted by the bad elevator music. He grabs Cas by the wrist, pulling him close, and cups his neighbor's face.

Cas looks into his eyes, a mix of confusion and elation shining in them, and Dean moves closer. Cas' fingers dig into the back of Dean's neck, the fingernails cutting through the skin, and Dean's hands grab Cas by the waist.

The man glances at them, like a snake waiting to strike, and Dean leans in.

For a brief second, their lips are barely touching, but Dean can't hold back. He starts moving his lips, fast and eager, desperate and needy. Dean pushes Cas against the wall, and the kiss is bruising his lips, but he doesn't stop.

He feels Cas' teeth, lips, tongue. It's death in a kiss, but he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to do it again, so he takes advantage of everything. Cas moans into his mouth, and yes, this is what Dean wants. He wants to capture every single sound that escapes Cas, to keep it as a memory.

Dean pulls away slowly, his teeth tugging gently on Cas' bottom lip as he does. Cas' lips are slightly swollen, and Dean knows he will never forget this.

"I'm sorry," whispers Dean, and Cas seems confused. Dean moves away from Cas and the man in the suit draws out his gun, but Dean is too fast for him.

He quickly punches the man in the gut, and they start punching each other. Cas tries to stop them but Dean shoves him away, causing Cas to hit the button panel. The man is now on the floor, and Dean starts kicking him in the face, not stopping until he hears the sound of breaking bone.

And he continues to kick. And stomp. And kick again.

The blood splatters everywhere, some of it landing on Dean's face, but he can't stop. The man needs to die, or he'll go after Cas and Gabe. He has to die.

The elevators door open, and Dean stops. The man's face is mangled, and he's definitely not breathing. Dean turns around to look at Cas, who is standing there with a terrified and revolted look on his face.

"Get out of here," snaps Dean. "Take Gabe, take your stuff, go somewhere else. Make sure Gabe takes the toy Meg gave him. Just go!"

"Dean..."

"Just get out of here, Cas!"

Cas gives Dean one last look, and he's gone.


End file.
